Ransom Poem by Taylor Winegar

sticks and stones may break my bones,
but words hurt just as much.
A harsh word said,
another dead
now my heart is mush.

wounds scars ash and dust.
What is it that makes us, us?
With a crooked tone they speak.
They keep me from my sleep.
Will the nightmare ever end?
Will I wake up okay again?
Or will I crash and burn and fall.
Then I'll become the worst of all.

I don't want you, they say.
I walk walk walk away.
There is no hero here.
Only the the filthiest of evil to fear.
It grabs on to your clothes and chokes.
The suffocation takes in
and your you life lines drawing thin.
with a murmur and a beat.
I start to count my sheep.
Im drifting slowly away.
For my ransom must be paid.